Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the characters or events of the Harry Potter
universe, nor do I own any of the quotes; credit to their authors is
given immediately below.

-"Ad
astra": to the stars; "ad astra per aspera," to the
stars through adversities (or "to heaven the hard way,"
more colloquially), is the state motto of Kansas and was made up by
some Latin dude, I guess
-"Man's
inhumanity to man / Makes countless thousands mourn!" is from
Robert Burns' "Man was Made to Mourn: A Dirge," 1784.
-with
nods to Anne Frank, philosopher(s) I had to read back in the days
(Kant? Kierkegaard?—it's been a while), and George Santayana

There
shouldn't be any spoilers, and this is vaguely pre-HBP.

Ad
Astra

We are all in the
gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. —Oscar Wilde

Sometimes the world was a horrid, dirty
place, a gutter where all the worst things had collected. Sometimes
that was all you could see about it: death and suffering and despair
and terror and meanness.
"Man's inhumanity to man," that Muggle poet termed it, this
belief that some were less than others, and could be treated that
way. It was this belief that let one race enslave another, that made
one man feel justified in killing another because of his bloodline.
And, like the poet said, it did make "countless thousands mourn."

The gutter was
filled with filth, to be sure. Some threw themselves headlong into
it, imagining that a bloodstained and cowering world was a world
worth ruling. Too many had lost their innocence to these, for whom
others' pain was a delight, and who believed with deluded conviction
that whatever means they chose to employ were acceptable to gain
their end. Too often innocent lives were considered acceptable means
to a genocidal, fanatical end. People are never a means.

Pensieve or no, he
could still remember screams of panic and streets littered with
corpses. It would be all too easy to remove the memories, store them
somewhere safe where they could not haunt his thoughts, and maybe he
could forget a bit. The idea had tempted him more than once as the
situation grew dire, but it was a luxury he could ill afford. The
cycle of history was turning, as it was wont to do. He would do well
to remember what had happened in the past, as it was likely to happen
again. And again the result could be the defeat of evil—although
more permanently this time, one hoped.

Some were fighting
back, as he hoped fervently that some would always fight back. But
others... There were others who would never know a world without this
evil, who would be taught to hate from the cradle, who would believe
that there was no other way. And there were others who, having known
peace and having seen the destructive power of the war, of the wizard
who called himself a Lord, would give up all hope of ever living in
peace again. The idea filled him with great sadness.

He was well aware
that there were those, allies as well as enemies, who thought him
naïve, idealistic, and too trusting by half. Perhaps they were
right. Was it merely spiteful to prefer to be thought naïve if
his enemies were thought shrewd and cunning? Could he allow himself
such pettiness in times like these? Of course he could—he was only
a man. His humanity, his mortality, were never far from his mind.
And that too separated him from those who loved the gutter.

If your eyes never
left the gutter, there was little reason to live.

But above the
gutter there were stars. One had only look to see them.

There were those
who kept their eyes fixed on the stars. They knew that there was
life beyond war; they knew that there would one day be a world where
evil did not reign. And they knew that even if they did not live to
see that day, the battle was still worth fighting, for everyone who
would come after.

In the midst of
hate and fear and destruction there was still goodness. There were
those who possessed decency and treated others with respect. There
were people who believed that humans were good at heart—something
he himself had occasion to doubt at times, faced with the aftermath,
the blood, the tears, the final silence. But through it all there
were acts that defied Voldemort. For every betrayer there was a
friend whose loyalty no Unforgivable could break; for every coward
who gave in there was a stalwart soul who stood firm, no matter what
the majority might say.

There was love.
Oh, certainly, Lily Potter's love for her son was well-known and
oft-repeated, but it was not a nonpareil. Molly Weasley would have
made the same sacrifice seven times over if necessary. Neville
Longbottom showed the courage that others and he himself doubted that
he had by doggedly loving his parents. It was almost a kind of
unrequited love, for to love someone who you knew must love you but
could never say it could be as hard as loving someone who did not
love you in return. You could easily be fooled into believing that
because they did not say they loved, they did not love. But Neville,
faithful and strong, did not doubt. He deserved happiness that even
a peaceful life could not promise him. And there were true
friendships, ones that persevered beyond this life, ones that kept
friends alive, in body and in memory.

People still
believed in wonder, in miracles, in the everyday beauty of the world.
Luna Lovegood, bless her, was unafraid to believe in any number of
things that others scoffed at. Far-fetched though her beliefs were,
she stood determined in the face of others' doubt and derision. Her
belief made her strong. Alas, she could see the Thestrals—though
there were few these days who could not see them—but she
also believed in what she could not see, and for that he was
thankful. Even if it was lost on her peers, her imagination and
wonder inspired him. They reminded him of his own youth, days spent
discovering magic and joy and life. Generations to come deserved the
chance to discover the world as he had, when days were all blue and
green and yellow, bright with earth and fire and air and water.

Life was not easy,
nor was it fair, but it had never been promised to be so. And
despite the trials they faced, life remained worth the struggle.
There was good. There was love. There was beauty, and belief, and
hope for what was to come. There were eyes, young and old, that
looked beyond the gutter of a hate-wracked world. There were eyes
turned to the stars.

We are all in the gutter...

"What's that,
Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked
up and gazed at the young face before him for a moment, smiling.
"Just admiring the stars."

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